


Logophile

by t_fic (topaz), topaz, topaz119 (topaz)



Category: NSYNC
Genre: First Time, Hiatus, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-07-02
Updated: 2003-07-02
Packaged: 2017-10-02 05:24:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/topaz/pseuds/t_fic, https://archiveofourown.org/users/topaz/pseuds/topaz, https://archiveofourown.org/users/topaz/pseuds/topaz119
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>JC loves words.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Logophile

JC loves words; loves how they work together; loves finding the perfect one, even if he has to make it up himself. He loves how he can hear a word a million times and think he knows what it means, and then, like tonight, have a lightning bolt hit and suddenly realize he hasn't understood anything at all. This new comprehension is completely blowing his mind, and he knows he's not going to be able to fall asleep no matter how tired he is from putting together an entire production number with a hundred kids and a half-dozen dancers in less than a week. He just lets the thoughts drift through his mind and squirms around a little to find a more comfortable position on the big bed.

It's not as though he's never heard these particular words before. In context, even. Miss Diane had taught it all to them nearly the first week they were in Germany. Lance still blushed uncontrollably then, and Chris never wasted an opportunity to needle him about anything, much less Mama Bass being all sweet and Southern, but it hadn't been long before they were all so tired and homesick that her gentle voice made life that much more bearable, and they all were secretly looking forward to hearing it whenever they saw her.

And it's not as if Lance doesn't say it all the time either. JC's long ago lost count of how often he's heard Lance greet Bri with it, right before sweeping her up into his embrace. Chris' sisters and their kids, Justin's cousins, Joey's seemingly endless family...whenever any of them are around, JC can count on hearing it in that rich, smooth drawl that is Lance's private voice. He's heard it so many times it's like aural wallpaper.

And still, JC thinks, all these years, and he still hadn't truly understood.

He'd sung it himself that night, unconsciously borrowing Lance's pronunciation and hadn't given it a second thought until he'd ducked offstage at the Rose Bowl, nearly flying from the high of everyone dancing and singing and loving his song, and found Lance in the closet that masqueraded as his dressing room, smiling and relaxed and so damn gorgeous that it never even occurred to JC to *not* kiss him. Or to stop once he started.

JC stretches slowly and smiles because he damn well understands it now, and lets the smile deepen to a laugh as the Lance-shaped lump that's draped across him growls that post-concert adrenaline rushes are a bitch in bed and to stop dissecting the damn performance because JC should freaking know that he blew the roof off the place and to not laugh at him just because he's a little freaked out--good freaked, not bad freaked--that an invitation to introduce JC's performance has turned into the best sex he's had in years, and really, what exactly is JC finding so funny?

With every grumble, the little bubble of happiness that's dancing around JC's head gets bigger and bigger and by the end of Lance's tirade, JC's giggling helplessly and can only choke out, "Words, man."

"Words." Now he has Lance's undivided, if skeptical, attention. "We're naked, you just blew the top of my head off, and you're cackling over 'words'?" Lance rolls his eyes and JC loses it all over again. "What words exactly?"

JC flops back down on the bed and concentrates hard on controlling the laughter. Lance half-crawls, half-slithers up his body and that helps a lot because there's nothing remotely funny about Lance skin-to-skin with him, so his voice is only slightly breathless--and that's mostly due to pure unadulterated lust--when he says what he's been thinking since the first lightning bolt hit, right after he realized Lance was kissing him back. "Come give me some sugaaaa."

JC drawls out the last word, just like Lance does, and thinks again, as Lance's mouth comes down on his, lush and teasing and so. fucking. *sweet.* that he really does love words.


End file.
